I'll Be Home for Christmas (8 page)

“I was thinking of giving them all Christmas names. You know, Holly, Jingle, et cetera. Just let me get my coat; it's too cold, and there's ice everywhere. I refuse to allow you to walk home, wherever home may be today.”

“I'm walking and that's final,” Gertie said, backing out the door. “Besides, I have some thinking I have to do. I do thank you for caring about this old woman. I'll be fine. It's a messenger, Andi, with a letter. I'll wait just a minute longer to make sure it isn't an emergency.”

Andi stared after her, a helpless look on her face. She knew how important it was for the seniors to feel independent. She reached for the envelope and ripped at it. “Ha!” she snorted. “It's an invitation to Mr. Lipstick's Christmas party.”

“Guess that makes it official. Change your mind and go. Is there a note?”

“Yep. It says he's sorry about the report and all he had requested were the financials, none of the personal stuff. He said he meant to destroy it once he met me, but time got away from him. He also says he had more fun yesterday than he's had in twenty years, and he thinks he's falling in love with me. He's very sorry. Please call.”

“So call and put the poor thing out of his misery. That certainly sounds contrite to me. Everyone makes mistakes, Andi, even you. I would find it very heartwarming to hear someone tell me they think they're falling in love with me. Think about that, Andi. Have a nice evening.”

“Goodbye, Gertie. Be careful walking.”

“I will, my dear.”

Andi read the note and the invitation until she had them both memorized. She ran the words over and over in her mind as she finished packing up the attic. At one point, as she descended the attic steps, she put the words to music and sing-songed her way through her bedroom as she stuffed things in cartons.

Andi stopped only to feed the animals and eat a sandwich. The telephone continued to ring, the answering machine clicking on just as the person on the other end hung up. At eleven o'clock she carried the last of the boxes downstairs to the garage where she stacked them near the door. By three o'clock she had her mother's china packed as well as all the pictures and knickknacks from the living room sealed in bubble wrap. These, too, went into the garage.

At three-thirty, she was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, the invitation to Peter King's party in front of her and his letter propped up against the sugar bowl. Believe or not believe? Go to the party, don't go to the party? Call him or not call him? Ignore everything and maybe things would turn out right. Like thirty-year-old women with thirty-six animals were really in demand. Was Gertie right? Was she acting like some indignant teenager?

There were no answers in the kitchen, so she might as well go to bed and try to sleep. Was this how it felt to be in love? Surely love meant more than a sick feeling in the stomach coupled with wet eyes and a pounding headache.

Andi felt as old as Gertie when she climbed the stairs to the second floor. She blubbered to herself as she brushed her teeth and changed into flannel pajamas. She was asleep the moment she pulled the down comforter up to her chin.

Even in her dream she knew she was dreaming because once before, in another lifetime, she'd slid down the hill on a plastic shower curtain with a colleague named Tyler. The same Tyler she'd had a two-year relationship with.

Andi rolled over, her arm snaking out to reach the phone. She yanked it back under the covers immediately. Six-thirty. She'd only had two and a half hours of sleep, and most of that had been dream time. Damn.

Andi struggled to remember the dream as she showered and dressed.

The animals tended to, Andi sat at the table sipping the scalding hot coffee. She frowned as she tried to remember what it was in her dream that bothered her. It didn't hit her until she finished the last of the coffee in the pot. Lily of the Valley. Of course. “When you're stupid, Andi, you're stupid.” A moment later the phone book was in her hands. She flipped to the Ks and ran her finger down the listing. She called every S. King in the book until she heard the voice she was expecting. She wasn't sure, but she thought her heart stopped beating when she heard Gertie's voice on the other end of the line.
Sadie King, Peter King's grandmother, was the homeless Gertie.

Blind fury riveted through her. Shaking and trembling, she had to grab hold of the kitchen counter to steady herself. A conspiracy. If the old saying a fool is born every minute was true, then she was this minute's fool. Of all the cheap, dirty tricks! Send an old lady here to soften me up, to spy on me so I'd spill my guts. You son of a bitch!

Andi fixed another pot of coffee. Somewhere in this house there must be some cigarettes, a filthy habit she'd given up a year ago. She rummaged in the kitchen drawers until she found a crumpled pack pushed way in the back. She lit one, coughed and sputtered, but she didn't put it out.

Promptly at nine o'clock she called King Cosmetics and asked to speak to Peter King. “This is Dr. Andrea Evans and this call is a one-time call. Tell Mr. King he doesn't get a second chance to speak with me. It's now or never.”

“Andi, is it really you? Listen I'm sorry—”

“Excuse me, I called you, so I'm the one who will do the talking. Furthermore, I'm not interested in any lame excuses. How dare you send your grandmother to spy on me! How dare you! Homeless my ass! She said her name was Gertie and I believed her. I didn't get wise till this morning. It was that Lily of the Valley.
That always bothered me.
Why would a homeless lady always smell like Lily of the Valley? She should have had body odor. All those good deeds, all those tall tales. Well, it should make you happy that I fell for it. You have to sink pretty low to use an old lady to get what you want. Don't send her back here again either. My God, I can't wait to get out of here so I don't ever have to see you or your grandmother again. She actually had me feeling sorry for her because her children,
she said,
wanted to slap her in a nursing home. This is my R.S.V.P. for your party. I'll leave it up to you to figure out if I'm attending or not.”

“What the hell are you talking about. Who's homeless? My grandmother lives in a penthouse, and she works to help—”

Andi cut him off in mid-sentence, slamming down the phone. She zeroed in on Rosie, who was watching the strange goings-on with puzzlement. Her owner rarely raised her voice. It was rarer still that she cried. “Do I care that his grandmother lives in a penthouse? No, I do not. Do I care that she sneaked in here and…took care of us? No, I do not. I bet that old lady came here in a chauffeur-driven limousine and parked it somewhere, and then she trundled over here in her disguise. I am stupid, I admit it. Well, my stupid days are over.”

Andi cried then because there was nothing else for her to do.



“Sadie!” The one word was that of a bellowing bull.

“Peter! How nice of you to come by so early. Did you come for breakfast?”

“Sadie, or should I call you Gertie? What the hell were you trying to do, Sadie?”

“So you found out. I only wanted to help. Who told you?”

“Guess!”

“Not Andi? Please, don't tell me Andi found out. So, that was who called this morning and hung up without speaking. I thought it might be Donald.”

“Who the hell is Donald?” Peter continued to bellow.

“He covered for me. He's a homeless man I befriended. How did she find out?”

“I have no idea. She said something about you always smelling like Lily of the Valley.”

“Yes, I guess that would do it. Was she very upset?”

“Upset isn't quite the word I'd use. She thinks I put you up to it. She thinks we had a conspiracy going to get her property.”

“Well, I certainly hope you explained things to her. I'll go right over there and make amends.”

“I wouldn't do that if I were you. I couldn't explain; she hung up on me. Don't meddle, Sadie. I mean it.”

“She's so right for you, Peter, and you're perfect for her. I wanted you two to get together. When the men found homeless animals, I had them take them to Andi. They told me how nice and kind she was. I wanted to see for myself what kind of girl she was. I want you to get married, Peter, and I don't want you marrying someone like Helen. That's why I did it.”

“Couldn't you trust me to find out for myself, Sadie? Why couldn't you simply introduce me or in this case leave me to my own devices? I met her on my own.”

“No, I couldn't trust you. Look how long it took you to figure out Helen wore false eyelashes.” She watched her grandson cringe at her words. “I just wanted to help so you would be happy. I'm sorry, but I'm not taking all the blame, Peter. You screwed it all up with that report.”

“That's another thing. That report was on the backseat. The day we went sledding I didn't have anything in the backseat. I didn't even open the back door. All my stuff was in the trunk. How'd it fall out?”

“It doesn't matter now how it fell out. It did, and Andi found it and read it. End of story,” Sadie said.

“I'm not giving up. I like her spunk.”

“She hates your guts,” Sadie said. “By the way, she isn't going to your party. I was there when the messenger brought your invitation. Peter, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to help. Where are you going?”

“To correct this situation.”

“Peter, Andi is very angry. Don't go on her property again unless you want to see yourself and this company on the six o'clock news.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Does that mean you want my advice?”

“Okay, I'll try anything.”

“Go to the police station and increase your Christmas donation to the Police Benevolent Association. Then ask them if they'll loan you one of their bullhorns. Talk to her from the road. She'll have to listen, and you aren't breaking any laws. I'm not saying it will work, but it's worth a try.”

“Sadie, I love you!” Peter said as he threw his arms around his grandmother.



Peter King, the bullhorn next to him on the front seat, pulled his car to the curb. He felt stupid and silly as he climbed from the car. What to say? How to say it? Apologize from the heart. You know Spanish and French and a smattering of Latin. Do it in four languages. That should impress her. Oh yeah.

Peter took a deep breath before he brought the horn to his mouth. “Dr. Evans, this is Peter King. I'm outside on the road. I want you to listen to me. When I'm finished, if you don't want me to bother you again, I won't, but you need to hear me out. You can't run and hide, and you can't drown this out.”

Peter sensed movement, chattering voices and rock music. Disconcerted, he turned around to see a pickup truck full of skis, sleds, and teenagers, pulling a snowmobile, drive up behind his parked car. “Shit!” Like he really needed an audience. Tune them out and get on with it.

“Andi, listen to me. Don't blame my grandmother; she only wanted to help. She wants to see me married with children before she…goes. I didn't know she was pretending to be a bag lady, I swear I didn't. As much as I love her, I wanted to strangle her when I found out.”